Three Words (Too Late)
by wisher93
Summary: After six years together, three words can change everything if you let them. Unless, of course, you’re too late.


Three words.

For a long time I've wondered what it would be like to say those three little words, wondered if it would be strange and feel weird on my tongue. I thought it would be foreign, maybe even forced, as I expel air from my lungs to form the words. I imagined saying them to different people I've been in relationships and it always seemed wrong. Now I know why.

How easy those three words come now, choppy and voice breaking. My hands are sticky and red, my throat dry. I have to force out the words as I strain to catch my breath. But not for the reasons I ever imagined.

"I love you," I say. I don't regret it, I don't worry about what anyone thinks as I voice the words. They just come, automatic, coming out before I know what I've said. But they're real, full of years of emotion, years of knowing her, working with her, protecting her. Years of loving her but never being able to admit it. Not to her, to myself. Not to anyone. Those three words feel right.

But it's too late. Her eyes are open, eyelids unmoving and her chest frozen no longer taking in or releasing breath. Her pulse has faded away, her heart silent. I'm too late.

It doesn't matter that bullets rain down around me, a shower of pain and heartbreak. It doesn't matter that the task at hand is forgotten. All that matters is her. All that she is... was. All she will never be again.

Suddenly things go hazy and I realize I've been shot, too, but I can't feel it. My heart already experiencing more pain than it can grasp.

One of my hands is holding hers to my chest, the other arm wrapped around her, keeping her close against me. How could this happen? How could I let her down, now after all this time? It's not possible that she's gone. I always figured it would be me, that I'd be first to go and that it would come so much later. I could never force myself to imagine a world without her in it.

I hear someone approaching but I can't look away from the large pool of red ever-growing around us, soaking into the ground, into my clothes, into me. I hear myself saying the words again and again, over and over like the more I say them, the more she can understand. But she can't understand anything, never will again.

She will never laugh at my jokes or roll her eyes at my side comments. She will never yell at me when I put myself at risk or try to pretend things are okay when they aren't. She no longer exists in the world and my brain can't handle the severity of the loss, the complete absence of the person who has been my partner, my friend, and my entire life for six years.

I hear a phone ring, far off in the distance. It's loud for being so far away and I can't help but feel annoyed. Not to mention the bullets flying or the shouts and yells I hear around me. The damn phone won't quit. Suddenly I throw my head back and scream into the sky. No words, the only three that need to be said can be said no more. Nothing else will do. So I just wail.

The phone rings again and I look down to see it's her phone. I grab it from the spot where it sits, drenched in blood on the grass and hold it up to see who it is. I feel my eyebrows crease and my eyes narrow slightly thought I'm not sure if from shock or confusion. The caller ID on her phone shows 'Maggie Bell.'

Things start to fade around me and I think maybe I'm finally succumbing to my wound. Instead my eyes open wide, I fly up into a sitting position, and realize with a racing heart and short, painful breaths that it was a dream.

It was a dream, it was a dream, it was a dream. I say to myself over and over. Again and again. My mind is going a mile a minute, my thoughts like leaves on a windy day- too fast and unpredictable to catch. I can't focus on one thought long enough to know what it is before it's gone.

Another loud ring pulls me a bit further from the trauma of the dream, and I grab the phone from the table beside my bed as I realize the ringing from my dream and this must be the same, must have pulled me from my sleep. My thoughts return to my nightmare as I see it's her, just like what I saw as I stared at her bloody phone in my hand.

I answer, needing to hear her voice, needing the confirmation, the indisputable proof that she is okay.

"Maggie?" I answer, and I realize how out of character I sound, how annoyingly weak my voice is. I pray she doesn't notice but, of course, she does.

"OA, what's going on?" I hear the concern in her voice, can see the look she's giving even though she's not here to give it.

I take a deep breath through my nose, and exhale slowly through my mouth. Just hearing her voice is enough to slow my still-racing heart and calm my nerves.

"Who, me?" I ask. "Just annoyed you woke me. It's only, what, quarter to eight on a Saturday?" I say trying to play it off. The line is quiet for just a moment too long and I know she doesn't really buy it. Thankfully she chooses to let it go.

"Okay, well, are you coming in to get that paperwork done? It won't finish itself. Trust me, I tried. Jubal's chomping at the bit."

I'm thankful she's playing along, but know she will probably want a more thorough explanation later. I'll have to come up with something before then.

The rest of the conversation takes less than a minute as she tells me she's leaving the office, but is putting the finished file on my desk to be looked over. As I hang up, I get up and walk into the bathroom to splash cold water on my face. It feels good against my clammy skin. I close my eyes and lean against the sink with my hands on either side of the basin. I try to shake the vivid memories of a cold, lifeless Maggie in my arms. Of course this is a dream that I can't forget, that won't fade away like so many others. The graphic images become too much and my eyes fly open. I study myself in the mirror, the worry still evident my face.

Before I realize what I'm doing, I grab my phone and am dialing her number. With the phone against my ear I almost hope, though only half heartedly, that she doesn't answer. Of course, she does.

"What now?" she jokes. "Forget how to find the JOC?"

"I need to see you," I say. No joking, no teasing. I can't think of anything else.

"OA, what's wrong?" she asks, obviously worried.

"Mags-" I start, but the words don't come.

"Okay. I'm coming over. Now."

"No, I'll come to you," I say knowing I can't sit around waiting, that I have to move, need to have some sort of control.

"Okay," she says.

The whole trip there is a blur. I don't remember the drive or how I got to her apartment, but I suddenly realize I'm there. I almost chicken out, am almost too nervous to see her, but that thought makes me laugh. Too nervous to see Maggie? I've spent an average of six days a week with her for the last six years. I take another deep breath in a failed attempt to collect myself, and then make my way to the door.

I don't even finish knocking the first time before she pulls the door open. She's dressed in casual clothing, hair pulled back, no makeup. I am taken aback by how beautiful she is and wonder why I didn't see it before. Somewhere deep inside I know I just didn't let myself admit it, didn't let this become real. She's always been beautiful to me.

I pull her into a hug. I can't help it. To see her alive and breathing after that terrible nightmare is a weightlifting relief. I feel like I can finally breathe again. I hold the hug long enough that I hear her asking again if I'm okay, if something happened.

I just shake my head before realizing she can't see me.

"I'm just so glad you're okay, that you're alive."

She exhales quickly like she is trying to understand given the little to no context I've given her. I realize I need to give her more to go on so I pull back but still hold her gently by her shoulders.

"Hate to break it to you, but I'm not going anywhere. You're stuck with me, remember?"

Smile at her joke from so long ago shortly after we first became partners. But my smile fades away when I remember how it felt to have her dead in my arms.

"Maggie, I had the worst...nightmare. It was so real." I see understanding in her eyes as she begins to put together the pieces. She's no stranger to nightmares either. "You were dying, right there in my arms. I couldn't begin to comprehend what was happening." I trail off getting lost in the memory, the doubt, the loss.

"OA," she says slowly, quietly. "I'm okay. Nothing happened." She gives a half smile.

"It's more than that, though. When I was holding you, watching your blood pool around us, I realized something. And I know that it's crazy, and I know it's probably just the dream. Well, it's not. It's not just the dream. It's real..." I trail off again looking at her trying to judge her reaction.

"I'm not sure if you are punking me or if you hit your head a little too hard in that explosion yesterday, but I'm not following your point, here," she says teasing not seeing where this is going.

"Okay," I sigh running my hand through my short hair. "This dream made me realize that I'm not being honest with myself. Or with you. Do you remember not long after we started working together you told me I had to be honest with you?"

She nods.

Suddenly I find the words I was missing, the words I need and they come fast and easy. "When I was holding you in my arms, and you were already gone, I realized I would have done anything to go back in time so I could tell you something really important. And now I have that chance."

I take a small step closer to lessen the gap between us and slowly drop my hands down her shoulders to her arms.

"Mags, I realized in that moment that I loved you. And I never got the chance to tell you. Even though the situation wasn't real, that it was just a dream, the way I felt—feel—is real, and I don't want to ever experience the feeling again of realizing it's too late to tell you."

Her eyes widen a little and the corners of her mouth turn up a little. Then she's blushing, just enough that anyone else might have missed it. But not me.

"So, are you going to say something or are you just going to leave me standing here feeling _really_ awkward?" I ask with a lot of emphasis on the 'really.'

Her smile grows, and I go a bit weak in the knees at the rare, Maggie-style smile she gives. Then she shakes her head a few times, still staring straight at me almost like she sees something I can't.

"No?" I ask quietly, not quite sure what that means.

"No," she mouths with another shake of her head. Then she puts her arms around me again in a hug and I return the embrace, relieved that, if nothing else, things aren't awkward. Then I feel her turn her head and she presses her lips to my cheek. They hover there a few moments before I pull away to look at her. It's my turn to have wide eyes, but I recover quickly. No, things are definitely not awkward.

Our foreheads rest together as I side my hands up her arms, over the back of her shoulders and neck, and then to her cheeks.

"OA?" she asks with a whisper.

"I thought you weren't going to talk," I tease.

"Shut up and kiss me," she says.

I can say I'm happy to oblige.

"I love you," I whisper as we break apart.

Three words can change everything you know, can put everything on the line. It can be completely terrifying, thrilling, exciting.Three words can change your life if you let them.

"I love you, too." The smile she's giving is everything. _She_ is everything.

Three words never sounded so good.

AN: Were you worried? I hope it was convincing in the beginning! I couldn't get this out of my mind. I've had this idea since Crossfire with the sniper shootings, but didn't feel like I knew enough about the characters yet. After last week's episode with the bomb and Maggie in danger the idea came back to me and I had to finish it. I'm glad I waited because this is much better than it was. I hope you enjoyed!


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